


Venom

by esmiedo



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fix-It, M/M, Redemption, Slash, Time Travel, cute family themes later, no beta we die like men, orochimaru centric, orochimaru is a mess, why was orochimaru a dick? lets find out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmiedo/pseuds/esmiedo
Summary: Every great story tends to start with a snake, this one is no different.





	1. Tall Grass

Orochimaru was not a wise man.

He never pretended to and never intended to be one, he found it too synonymous with the old decrepit men with hunched backs and crooked teeth that would leer at him as a genin. The ones who told him he would never amount to much of anything, that he was a waste just like his clan. The men like his teacher, the men like Jiraiya.

The men who died.

Orochimaru would never be like that, he had worked too hard and done too much to give up on who he was for something so mundane. He would not be touched by the cold hands of death, he would avoid it with the stubbornness that he never quite grew out of.

Instead of a wise man Orochimaru was a smart one, he was a man who knew everything. He did not pretend to think he was right or just, he simply knew the secrets whispered behind hands into the ears of the few and many. He was smart and cruel, he had a long list of grievances, of sins and wrongdoings that he cared very little for. Nevertheless, he did not bother to hide behind any guise. He simply was and this was always enough for him.

Until the world, as he knew it ended.

That's what happens when everything you know changes, you have to adapt and if there was nothing else he knew how to do, Orochimaru knew how to adapt to any situation. Maybe if he had the luxury of a future he could hold onto the thought of looking back and laughing at his situation. To reminisce over tea with Kabuto, or something equally stupid that he only wanted to do because it simply wasn't possible anymore.

He crawled on his belly, the shadows of the sun chilling his skin as he shifted through the grass. It was desperate, the need he could feel clawing up from his chest. Orochimaru had seen a lot in his long life, had done a great deal more and it was the first time that he couldn't think of a way out of this mess he managed to place himself in.

The Goddess who once was bound in the moon was a cruel being, eldritch and wild she turned her eyes about the battle-field her fingers outstretched as an entire army was felled. There was no way he could fight that, there was no hope for him to be able to survive Her no matter how much he had prevailed in the past.

No matter what he had done in his life, Orochimaru was still very much mortal.

There was a certain irony to it, that he had no chance to live as he was, so he had to find a way to live through others. It was the sort of sentimental nonsense he never thought he would be ensnared by, disgusting in its own manner. He slid into the cave, barely managing to make it to the meeting place they had agreed on for their last desperate gambit. Naruto and Kakashi stood further in their shoulders slumped as they checked the seals sprawled out on the ground.

"We don't have much more time, I hope that your seals will hold Uzumaki." He hadn't talked in weeks, the croak of his own voice startling in the thick silence between them. The blonde-haired man turned with a tired smile, none of the reservations his sensei seemed to hold against the Orochimaru in his face.

"You can do more than hope, old man, my seals are the best we have right now."

"You have a clone meditating? The nature chakra you can gather is one of the key elements of this plan." He murmured scanning the others work quickly to check for any obvious mistakes.

"You worry too much, everything will be alright."

"You do not worry enough!" He hissed narrowing his eyes in frustration at the other's blind optimism. They didn't get to this point because the world was good or just, they got here because it was cruel, and they were the jokes Gods told each other during family reunions.

"I don't think you have a right to have any opinion Orochimaru," Kakashi cut in sharply in defense of his student.

"I suppose my right was lost when I defected from Konoha then? Where is your precious village now Hatake?" Orochimaru smiled, his teeth flashing in the low light, "It's but a few shinobi in tents patiently waiting to be culled."

"Come on guys, let's not fight. We have jobs to do." Naruto said into the awkward silence.

"No, if the snake has something to say, he should just say it." Kakashi snapped.

He could feel his temper flare for a moment, hot like the chakra before a fire jutsu collecting at the back of his neck. Ultimately there has always been a reason that Orochimaru has never played well with others, they always let their emotions get in the way of what is needed to be done. In the end, they had a job to do, petty emotions did nothing but slow them down.

"My point, child, is that we are doomed. What we are doing now isn't even a fix for the world we are in right now, it's a gamble in the hopes that we can save whatever other dimensions there may be from the same fate, that one of us can live on while the others die to her." Orochimaru closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, "Naruto will not save us as we are, but he can save us as we could have been."

"You are a monster," Kakashi began slowly, stepping around the seals so he could stand within inches of the other man. He had seen better days, the angry scar over his sharingan seemed starker against his much too pale skin, his hair limp and dull compared to what it had once been, "You expect me to trust the word of a monster."

It really was a shame that the other ninja was so against him. Orochimaru wished, for a desperate moment, for him to understand that those choices were made and there was no changing them. He wasn't entirely sure he would change them if given the chance, the possibility of a much worst outcome stilling his hypothetical hand. At least he knew this evil, knew the madness that settled heavily in his own mind.

"I expect you to have no choice," his voice broke cutting him off for a moment before he cleared it, "you have no choice because I am the only one left who can help you. Everyone else is dead Hatake, and soon we will join them."

"You sound rather calm about that considering what you have done to avoid death."

"I am not a fool, this is not a world I wish to live in." He laughed, harsh and bitter, "I suppose death would be pleased to have the full set of Sannin."

They were silent, watching each other for a moment before moving on to finish the preparations for the jutsu. The set of signs, long and difficult considering they had to all be done simultaneously, was Orochimaru's own contribution to the plan. It had taken him months to figure out the signs that would be needed to match Uzumaki's seals, so their chakra would seamlessly meld to power the matrix.

It went shockingly well so he didn't understand why seeing the fallen god standing at the mouth of their cave near the end of their jutsu was so jarring. Nothing ever went well, after all, so why would it be a shock to have the worst possibility happen?

And there she stood, eyes wide and dark a single hand pressed against the stone of their cave wall, her very presence enough to almost bring Orochimaru to his knees. They were all frozen, her chakra filling the very air around them stilling their bodies as they trembled before her, their heartbeats the only sound they could hear.

It was in that moment that Orochimaru would later try to justify to himself. He had to do it, he would say in the dark of the night, he had to, or She would have won.

Orochimaru would never be a wise man.

The sealing matrix glowed, the jutsu finishing itself at the moment before She struck.

No, he would never be a wise man but, oh, was he a selfish one.

He stepped forward into the matrix and meeting eyes, so blue they hurt, gleaming with betrayal and then nothing.

* * *

 

The first thing that he knew was pain, pain so strong he forgot for a moment who he was. Forgot everything but the singular throbbing horror.

There is a theory about reincarnation that the pain of being born into the world is what makes you forget your past life, that in it your mind is cleansed so you can start anew.

Maybe the pain would cleanse him, maybe he could forget.

Orochimaru did not remember many things about his mother. In some moments he would remember silken hair brushing over his shoulder, eyes as golden as his own gleaming as fingertips grazed his features. He remembered sharp barbs and crooked smiles, a mouth full of dull teeth and a kunai in hand.

Above all else, he remembered every saying his mother passed onto him. In those moment's that he did not think he could move on, when the weight of the world seemed the lean on his narrow shoulders he remembered how she would sigh, running her fingers through his hair, and recite to him something he was sure was said to her by her own mother.

His Favorite, when he was younger, was 'ten people, ten colors.' It was a rather odd way of saying every person was different, with their own colors and ways of being.

He wondered now what color he may be.

He thought, at the moment at least, he would be rather muddied. Like the banks near where a sea met a river, brackish and unsure. He was probably an ugly color, stained by the things he had done and had yet to do.

Now, however, all that he was is that of a snake devouring itself, never feeling full, self-mutilation and desperation mixing in with the animalist need to continue. To survive. Forever begging to whatever god still listened to his pleas, greedy for more.

The only thing left to do was continue, to settle into the pain and be reborn on the other side.

The hospital bed he was on smelled like antiseptics and soap.

He didn't particularly know how he got here, the fact he was in a hospital at all suggested the jutsu was a success. The pain he vaguely remembered still seared behind his eyes, his body sore from the struggle he faced with something not unlike himself. Wrapped around that something he remembered the taste it left in his mouth as he consumed it, taking it into himself, the pain of merging, the sudden clarity of old memories and then the yawning nothing that came after.

He shifted, his head pounding as he pressed the tips of his fingers to his temple. He knew his body enough to know that the pain he was feeling wasn't all the odd spiritual ache. He remembered how Tsunade told him once that medics were always strange about headwounds, only the best were allowed to heal them and even then, they preferred to leave it to natures discretion.

What a shame.

"Oh!" A voice called from the doorway, a nurse probably half Orochimaru's height stood there nervously shuffling her feet. "It's good to see you are awake."

"What is today's date?" His voice rasped oddly for a moment, he felt raw and uneven, strange in his own skin like those moments after he took a new body. It had been so long since he was himself, it was strangely like coming home.

"It's the same day, you were only out for a few hours. You gave everyone in the lab quite the scare sir, just falling unconscious like that. The Doctor will be by soon to talk to you about any test results, so we know what might have caused it." She bustled into the room quickly checking his vitals and then flashed lights in his eyes to check the dilation of his pupils before smiling nervously down at him, "Why don't you try to get some more sleep in the meantime, you had a nasty knock on the head so that must hurt, and you could definitely use the rest. We will have someone come in and wake you up every few hours if the Doctor probably won't be able to get to you until tomorrow morning."

"Thank you."

"Of course, sir! Let us know if you need anything."

And just like that he was alone again.

He slept in the silence.

* * *

 

He was released from the hospital that night, they believe him to have mild amnesia, which is fine with him. There was nothing more they could do and his abilities as a shinobi was not affected so it didn't really matter.

He managed to establish where he was in the timeline at least. It was ten years before the Kyuubi would be released, he was 28 years old, Tsunade had already left the village, Jiraiya at her heels while he stared at their backs. It stung a great deal more than it should, the wound left by their abandonment fresher than he remembered it being.

The only bright side he could think of was that Naruto wasn't the one to step through the seal, the fact that he had been thrown back so far into the past showing that they had miscalculated somewhere and all they would have done was killed the blonde-haired boy.

There was so much he had to do, he was already tired.

His first act of business would be figuring out a way to kill Zetsu, the original plan was to burn the creature with a corrosive jutsu that utilized the Kyuubi's chakra but that wasn't really an option anymore.

If he were to be completely honest he wasn't even sure if he would follow through with what he originally did and end up a missing-nin. It would get him access to Zetsu and it would be a good way to experiment with different ways to kill Zetsu since the creature was partially composed of Hashirama's DNA and the only way he would be able to get to such a sample would be to work with Danzo once again.

Orochimaru sighed, there were so many options that he could pursue, none of them particularly glamorous. Once upon a time, the answer would have been simple, and he wouldn't even be questioning what he should be doing. Now all he ever will be is a tired old man, unbalanced, wanting nothing more than a moment to catch his breath and rest.

"This is why it should have been you who was sent back, Naruto, you are far nobler than I ever could dream to be." He paused pulling his own hair back in a high ponytail as he gazed evenly at the mirror, "Nevertheless I will do anything to ensure she is never a problem you have to face."

The boy inspired loyalty in anyone he spoke to, Orochimaru was certainly not immune to such charisma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my personal characterization of Orochimaru, I feel like he is a deeply misunderstood character. I'm not saying he's a good person or anything but I think he became the way he was for a number of reasons. Part of what this story will be is trying to understand those reasons, the other part is because blackkat is a cruel goddess of rare pairs and after reading A Snake In the Grass, A Wolf At the Door I ship Oro and Sakumo.


	2. Sidewinding

The rain outside tapped at the window of the Hokage’s office, collecting in the street below.

“You were absent for our tea yesterday.”

Orochimaru loved the rain.

Konoha’s rainy season was by extension his favorite season. There was a cleansing nature to the rain, something that helped relax him even when he was the most stressed. It was in the rain that he fought his best battles, it was in the rain that the blood washed away before it could stain. That was perhaps what he missed most when he was a rogue, because there was not a single place that had rain like Konoha. The smell, the pattern of raindrops on roofs and tree canopies.

“I seemed to have hit my head during some odd fainting spell and have forgotten some unimportant things.”

It felt odd, standing before the man who at one point he was sure he hated and in equal parts loved. Like talking to a ghost. His father, his mentor; the careless fraud.

It rained during his funeral.

“You think our little get-togethers are unimportant?” his teacher leaned forward blowing a long stream of smoke in the way Orochimaru knew he used to hide his amusement, “I think my feelings are hurt.”

“You’ll get over it.” He drawled back falling easily in once remembered banter, “You summoned me for something?”

“To the point, like always, can’t I talk with my student every now and then?”

“Not when you summoned said student from work he could be doing.”

“You are going to make an old man cry.”

“Then cry.” Orochimaru waved his hand out dismissively, “I’m still waiting for the reason I’m here, I’m sure you can choke it out through your blubbering.”

Hiruzen laughed a moment then seemed to hesitate, busying himself with his pipe as if to distance himself from his own request. It made Orochimaru tense, the easy atmosphere he had been enjoying souring as quickly as it was formed.

“I would like to send you on a mission with a lax time restraint, in that time I would like you to find Tsunade and check on her. Her birthday is-“

“I will take the mission, but I will not be seeking her out.” He interrupted sharply before the Hokage could finish.

“Orochimaru, I understand you are upset with her, but you must understand how much she has lost. She could do with her teammate’s support.” He spoke in his wizened way, carefully trying to make Orochimaru see his side.

“She was not the only one who lost things, sensei, Nawaki was as much my student as he was her brother. Instead of turning to myself or Jiraiya for comfort she runs from it like a madwoman abandoning the village Nawaki and Dan would have done everything to protect.”

“I think you are less upset that she abandoned the village and more upset she abandoned you.”

“She is being childish, and you are indulging her temper tantrum.”

“She is mourning.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Orochimaru please,“ he began before Orochimaru continued over him as if he were not speaking at all.

“If that is all I think I would like to get back to my lab to finish off a few things before going on the mission. If I see her I will give her whatever it is you want me to give her, but I refuse to seek her out.”

“Thank you for that much, the mission will start tomorrow so you have time to delegate whatever you are doing in your labs.” He sighed reaching into his drawer to pull out two scrolls, “The first scroll is my present to Tsunade, the second is the mission parameters.”

Orochimaru nodded, easily sliding both into his leg holster before bowing shallowly, “If that is all?”

“When you return we will have tea, I will make sure of it.”

“Of course.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

Orochimaru noticed, carefully shunshining out of the office, that not once did the Hokage ask why he may have fainted. Instead, he was asked to deliver a present like a common carrier ninja.

He couldn’t help the bitter taste that settled in his mouth as he heart pounded in his ears.

* * *

The mission was to deliver a scroll to the monks in the water temple east of Kiri. Kiri itself was already under a shutdown, so going anywhere near the village was quite dangerous. He did it once when he found Kimimaro and took him in. He wondered if he should look for the child again, but then again he was already wild and lost by then. Already cast aside by his village like trash. Besides, here were too many variables for hm to decide so soon. Either way, he had a mission to complete.

He wasn’t sure what was inside the scroll, whether it was some sort of written treaty or that of a storage scroll. He didn’t particularly care either, whatever it may be was high enough of a priority to warrant the excuse of sending a Sannin to deliver it.

It simply was not his job to know what was inside the scroll.

When Orochimaru was younger the religion that the scattered monks across the land practiced had caught his attention. Buddhism, at its core, was the acceptance of everything in the world, with no intention to change it, because it was balanced. He liked the way it made him feel like everything had a reason like everything happened for a greater design where everything would eventual be okay. It would explain how he was orphaned so young, how unnerved people were by him, how no matter what he did he didn’t seem to do anything right.

But, oh, they were right to fear him after all, weren’t they?

As he grew older he found that he had no place in the religion, his hands bloodied by things he said and did that did not match up with the basic tenets of Buddhism. There was no end to any suffering, there was no reincarnation waiting for you after death, no divine cycle, and if there was he didn’t want it. So, he made his own.

With each new body, he was reborn, with each new life lost his was lengthen. he had lived the life of hundreds and yet never once died.  It was beautiful, a form of art all its own and he was happy for a time.

As happy as he could be.

Even now there were things that painted his way of life that could be traced back to his time studying the way of the monks.

Anicca, dukkha, and anatta.

Annica was that everything had an end, everything was liable to eventually disappear. Dukkha was that nothing could be relied upon, there was no such thing as true happiness. Anatta; there was no permeance, no underlying substance called true self. There was nothing that can be truly controlled. In the end, there was only chakra. The only thing you had in the world to rely on was yourself and even then, you would eventually fail.

The monks greeted him warmly, the mist was heavy in his lungs his clothing damp and clinging to his skin. The few bandits he had found on the way there were easily dealt with, his sword clean and his eyes sharp.

“Peace shinobi, thank you for your work.” A line of heads bowed, they did not offer him entrance.

“Konoha sends her regards.”

He was not welcome in their halls.

He doesn’t find Tsunade, he doesn’t particularly try either. He had made it clear that he did not agree with her new way of life and refused to search through gambling halls for a single blonde head.

He staunchly ignored the tightness in his chest.

When he returned to his home a package sits innocently on his kitchen table, Root’s mark stamped harshly on its card.

* * *

The steam from the tea warmed his face as he gripped his cup, the warmth seeping into his body through his fingertips.

“It’s been a while since we had the time to sit together, tell me what has been happening lately?” Hiruzen sipped his own cup, a dash of honey and cream lighter and sweeter than his own. It was a week after his mission to the monks, in that time things had been still and uneventful.

“You never have the time and when you do there are obviously more important things to do.” He sighed adjusting his position to be more comfortable, “We have made a breakthrough in vaccinations, I have spoken to a few of the Nara members of the research team and they believe that the vaccinations in tandem to a vitamin plan will prevent the outbreak of the virus from spreading further than it already has.”

“That’s good, I remember reading one of your reports that were along those lines, what about in your free time? Anything interesting?”

‘I traveled back in time’ he doesn’t say, ‘I traveled back and don’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop myself and now I’m here with no plan and everything happening all at once.’

“Do you honestly care?” slips out instead before he can stop it, the words he has always meant to ask.

He was silent for a moment as if startled, “What do you mean?”

“We are the unlucky three, the Sannin of Konoha. One an amazing medic who couldn’t even save the lives of the ones she loved the most, another an orphan who can’t get the girl he wants so desperately to love him, and the last a freak no one, not even his teammates, care about.” Orochimaru sets down his tea, he had wanted to ask this of his teacher for so long he sometimes even regretted the part he had in his death. Hiruzen looked like Orochimaru had hit him. Like a punch to the gut driving all of the air out of his teacher’s lungs with a single strike. “Do you even care about who we are beyond shinobi for you or pretty little accomplishments you can tuck under your belt?”

“Of course, I care,” The Hokage’s voice shook for a moment, unsteady, “I will always care about you three, I think of you as my children.”

“I pity Asuma if this is how you treat your children.” He felt politely detached, two strangers talking about a policy they didn’t meet eye to eye on, “either way we have fallen apart. There is very little room left for me.”

“Is this because I asked you to look for Tsunade for me?”

“You would think it was because of that.”

He felt like laughing.

“Orochimaru talk plainly, I grow tired of your theatrics.”

“I’m tired, sensei.”  He had thought he was passed this, the constant ache he remembered long ago when they first turned their backs on him and yet here he was _aching_ all over again like a child. “I am tired and alone.”

“I don’t know what to do to help you.”

“I don’t know if there is anything you can do. Not now.”

He leaves cold and hollow.

He misses his team, he misses the closeness they used to have, he misses the way that he could always trust them with his back before he ruined it all the first time.

* * *

 It’s odd, how quickly the world around a person can be both familiar and strange.

The training field is dark and muddied, ruined under the weight of his jutsu but he doesn’t know how to stop. So, he keeps going, tearing trees up by their roots and leaving furrows as deep as he was tall in the ground. He spent years running, hiding like vermin, he remembers how it felt to be clever and free. And now he was here again, in the place be adored and despised among the people who feared and relied on him in equal turns.

He missed it, he detested it, his jaw ached as he opened it wide swallowing his own wavering thoughts.

“Hello, Orochimaru,” The man reminded him of dusty books and ground bone, of the earth beneath his feet and the blood of war on his teeth.

“Hello, Danzo.”

“I believe I have a proposition for you that you may be interested in,” said the old war hawk to the snake, “for the good of Konoha.”

“For the good of Konoha, Of course,” he felt himself respond, “I’m listening.”

He can almost feel Naruto’s disappointment but if he plays his cards right he will get everything he needs and remain in Konoha.

But, oh, it was a gamble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter but Sakumo shows up next time.


	3. Shallow Graves

Orochimaru had seen a lot of death in his lifetime, he had become intimately familiar with it. The shuttering breath, a death rattle sighed softly between teeth, the squelch of a kunai sliding between the fourth and fifth rib, the screams of horror and pain. They all clung to his memory damning him and driving him to his own form of madness.

In the wake of war some shinobi can’t bear to be near cooked meats, others fear fireworks or the flash of light on metal. Some break suddenly, others slowly, Orochimaru has always been unsure which category he fell into. He wasn’t sure if every day he woke up a little more broken or if it was a sudden crack brought on by an internal pressure.

What he did know was that he came back from war fearing death itself, an obsession to live beyond the mundane, to find immortality or to make it himself. One that derived from a youth drowned in loss. First his father, before he could even know him, then his mother when he was still bright eyed and childish. They were his introductions to the cruel reality of the world. This fear drove him to do things he would never had dreamed of doing when he was a genin, a pursuit to change the very nature of his body, to stamp out all mortality till he was his very own god.

His own creator.

And maybe if Konoha wasn’t fathered on the backs of broken and war warn shinobi, where mental health meant little, he could have been saved the first time. Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen so far so fast and then driven himself out of his very home. It was his bookish nature in the end that made him great, his need to learn and understand the driving force even in his own madness.

It was in the end the nature of shinobi that made him cruel and sharp, his morals few and far between. He had lived the life of three wars, first when he became a Sannin, then again in his prime, and finally one waged against a god. He could still remember the horrors that he faced, watching Kabuto crumble like dust before him, each of his creations, his children, left like broken dolls in the wake of her army. He remembered the stench of their flesh when he burned them, his hands shaking as he unmade his own creations, so they may not be used against him. 

In the end he was a child afraid of his own shadow, the stark line between what he could have been and what he knew he became was so jarring it almost felt unreal.

Orochimaru was terrified of death, so he conquered it. He conquered his own mind and body and remade himself. There is no advantage in death, no way to get out on top. There was nothing but a broken husk, the embodiment of the void itself.

He learned, he adapted, a cockroach surviving the nuclear fallout of the world’s mistakes.

“Hello summoner,” a voice interrupted his thoughts dragging him from the empty stare he had leveled out his window, “I have some new gossip.”

“Hello Shizuka,” He smiled holding out his hand to let the pretty garden snake coil around his wrist, “you are looking as lovely as ever.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” her tongue flicked across his skin smugly, “a mouse however is never amiss.”

“I’ll be sure to catch you one before you leave, you have been well I hope?”

“Of course, as have my hatchlings. They will be old enough to bring to meet you soon, when that day comes be sure to have many mice on hand.”

“Forewarn me and I look forward to it.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t always have mice, they are a good snack,” she lifted her head, yawning in a show of her fangs before settling down once again, “Your loud teammate is in town, the one that smells of toads and oil.”

“Jiraiya? How long?”

“A week now, I believe he will be leaving again soon.”

Orochimaru ignored how it hurt that he hadn’t been visited. “I see, I assume his appearance isn’t the only thing that has caught your interest.”

“Oh no, there’s been a rather juicy rumor going around about a man who started a war. That is at least the opinion of many of the people I’ve heard lately. I don’t really understand how a man can start a war alone, but they seem convinced.”

“Oh, a war?” Orochimaru tried to remember the reason for the third great ninja war, he couldn’t quite place why it had happened.

“Oh yes, rather interesting isn’t it.” Shizuka bobbed her head excitedly, “I tracked down the one they were accusing of all of this, one Sakumo Hatake, he smelled like wet dog. He doesn’t look like much really, I don’t see how he could have caused a war.”

“What exactly are they saying he did?”

“Mixed accounts really, some say he abandoned his mission and saved the lives of his fellow nestmates others say he directly sabotaged the mission and lead to its failure.”

Ah, now he remembered. The White Fang, a shinobi that gained infamy in the second war against Suna, Ame, and Iwa. He couldn’t remember exactly what happened to him, but he remembered him dying relatively soon.

“Interesting, is that all?”

“It’s the biggest thing happening right now, I’ve gotten some movement from root. Very difficult to track but one of my people said that they have been watching you a great deal. The leader, Danzo, has been holding meetings with groups of his operatives. They are planning something, but we do not know what, we nearly lost someone who tried to get closer to find out.”

“Don’t risk getting closer again seeing as you already almost paid the price for that, do you have thoughts on what he may be planning?”

“An ambush of some sorts.”

“Why is that?”

“That’s the only reason why you gather so many people like that, either an ambush or some sort of trap.”

“I see,” He drawled faintly running his fingertips across her scales absently, “that is entirely possible, but this may simply be a response to the new threat of war.”

“You can never be too careful.” She hissed.

He nodded absently, staring out of his window to watch the rain flood his garden, “No, I don’t suppose you can.”

* * *

Orochimaru had a plan.

It was perhaps the only solid plan he had managed to come up with, the details were loose enough for him to adapt or change major points in the plan at a drop of a hat.

He decided that using Danzo to get a hold of  DNA would be the best course of action. He could then take everything that much further and remain with root and the experimentation that eventually lead to his rogue status or he could gather evidence and turn Danzo in to the Hokage. Both had their individual advantages, with one he had a great deal more time with the Hashirama's DNA and access to more should he fail. He would later have far more freedom as a rogue than he would as a shinobi of the leaf. With the other he had the possibility of a shinobi village backing him, he didn’t have to live the life of a rogue constantly looking over his shoulders. He would be able to show his face without the fear of an immediate attack, he would be as unnoticed as a Sannin could be.

After he managed to get ahold of Hashirama's DNA the next step would be designing either a seal or a jutsu that would target the unique structure in a certain radius. That would rapidly destroy the white Zetsus that black Zetsu had stored in the Gedō Mazō greatly reducing his army. Destroying the statue itself would be the next order of business, a combination of his rudimentary sealing abilities and his strongest jutsu may end up being what he needed to destroy the summon, preferably before it was dismissed. It would then be a matter of locating and destroying  black Zetsu himself.

Lightning flashed eerily, cutting through the night, Orochimaru counted the breaths between it and the sound of thunder.

It was a lot to do and very little time to do it.

He could sense the root member crawling across his ceiling, the movements silent and steady. He wasn’t sure what they were here for, wasn’t sure if he cared but he knew that they wouldn’t leave without finishing their mission.

The root member hesitated a moment, Orochimaru poured some cream into his tea in one smooth movement watching the liquid grow cloudy. They flared their chakra faintly, just enough to show their intent incase he did not know they were there and then landed in front of him, the rolling thunder covering the soft sound of their landing.

“Good evening,” Orochimaru said, watching the operative carefully, “What are you doing in my home?”

“Danzo requests an audience.” The black eyes of his cat mask stared.

“When?”

“Now.”

There was silence broken up by the sound of the rain outside tap at Orochimaru’s roof as they stared at one another.

“So needy. I’ll be finishing my tea before I go anywhere.” He sipped his tea almost pointedly using it to hide the smirk he knew was on his lips.

 “Danzo want’s you now.”

“My tea has just been made and I dislike cold tea.”

Old men had to find entertainment somewhere and short circuiting a root member may become his new favorite pastime. They were conditioned not to have emotions and to complete a mission verbatim so offering instances where the mission had to be either altered or could not be completed caused a great deal of stress for them. Especially considering even a member of root knew they would not win in a fight against Orochimaru so they certainly couldn’t force him.

“I’ve finished my tea and am ready to go now cat, please lead the way.”

Danzo had chosen to meet with him in what he could only assume would be one of Root’s underground bases around Konoha, how it managed to not flood he would never know.

“Hello Danzo, you have very interesting operatives.”

“Oh,” he cast a glance at Cat as if he could assess what had happen with a look alone, “I see.”

“Yes, now what have you called me here for?”

“I would like us to begin our association now if you are amendable?”

“Of course.”

“You are a man of science, am I correct in assuming this?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So would it be within you ability to learn to recreate lost kekkei genkai so that Konoha may be strong again?”

“You do not believe Konoha to be strong already?”

“Not as strong as she could be.”

“What you are proposing is a type of blood line theft.”

“I suppose I am, would you be willing.”

There was silence for a moment, Orochimaru could feel every single operative shift closer to him the air around them tense.

“Yes, what kekkei genkai are you looking to recreate? I know of at least two that have been lost to time, the Kurama clan’s illusions and the Senju’s wood release.”

“The wood release, if we are successful we could then maybe turn to the Kurama clan.”

“How do you want us to recreate this kekkei genkai? Shall we be starting from scratch?”

“I figured by using some of Hashirama's DNA we may be able to recreate it.”

“it is far better than starting from scratch, I would need to identify what part of the DNA attributes to the wood release so that we would know what needs to be duplicated seeing as not everyone of the Senju clan has this ability.”

“Of course.” Danzo responded stiffly, his hands hovering over a scroll a moment before passing it to Orochimaru, “I trust you will come to me when you have identified what you need so we may plan the next course of action?”

“Yes,” Orochimaru responded, drawing out the s slightly as he weighed the scroll in his hand. He could almost laugh, everything was going according to plan, he had already managed to complete step one of his goal, obtaining Hashirama's DNA. “I trust that is all you needed from me?”

“Yes, that is all,” Danzo seemed to hesitate a moment, before nodding, “please remember we will be watching.”

* * *

Orochimaru knew that Naruto would not agree with his plan to destroy Zetsu and save the world from Kaguya. He would find it too crass, too harsh, too cruel.

He searched diligently for his favorite spice pack, the assortment of spices was the last thing he needed before he would be able to head home.

“Stupid idiot, you shouldn’t be in Konoha!” A civilian child threw a rotten tomato at the figure of a man, “you are a traitor!”

Orochimaru glanced at the man, freezing for a moment when he saw that it was the White fang, his long silver hair matted and his eyes tired. His entire body seemed to sag, folded in on itself, hiding him from view.

Orochimaru caught the next tomato thrown at the man.

“What do you think you are doing?” He hissed coolly.

“He’s a traitor, he’s the reason why we are at war and mommy said he should be punished.”

“No matter what you seem to think he has done he is a jounin of this village, you will not be throwing things at him again. Should I catch you doing so against my advisement,” Orochimaru released a hint of killing intent, not enough to do the child any damage but enough to get his point across, “you will regret it.”

The child jerked, their face paling before running off as fast as their little feet would take them, Orochimaru watched them for a moment before casting the tomato to the side and turning to Sakumo.

“You shouldn’t allow them to do that to you.”

The jounin blinked slightly in confusion, “Why not? They are right after all.”

“Why?” Orochimaru adjusted his groceries feeling infinitely more annoyed. “What is it that you have done that is so heinous?”

“I started a war?”

“You? One man? How arrogant for you to think that.”

“I chose to save a comrade over completing the mission, compromising it and starting a war.”

“Again, how arrogant of you to assume that your one action is what has caused this war. You are the excuse not the cause, war was at our doorstep already they just needed something to blame. Besides do you regret it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you regret saving your comrade.” Orochimaru leaned forward slightly watching the man as he regarded Orochimaru skeptically.

There was silence for a moment and Orochimaru almost turned and left in the lapse.

“No, I don’t believe I do.”

“That makes you a good man Hatake, someone who represents the will of fire Konoha harps on about.”

“would you have done the same?”

Orochimaru paused, surprised.

“Honestly? I do not know.” He studied Sakumo again for a moment before turning speaking over his shoulder as he left, “But I am not a good man.”

“I think you are one Orochimaru!”

“I’m sorry?” He paused, his back still turned.

“Bad men don’t stop children from throwing tomatoes at the village pariah.”

He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, giving the man a measured glance. He looked less wary, his back straighter and his shoulders back.

“I don’t suppose they do.”


	4. Thin Bones

Orochimaru forgot how very noisy war was.

He always thought that a war between shinobi should be quiet, the type of battle fought in shadows with senbon dipped in poison. Instead it was filled with screamed jutsu and fallen soldiers, of the clang of Kunai and a thousand feet pounding on the ground to the rhythm no one knew. It was the crunch of bone between the teeth of madness, wide-eyed and bloodied.

There were children, all sharp elbows and gapped teeth that pattered onto the battle field like ants. Not as young as when the clans still wared against one another but so very young and unsure of the world their kunai cutting through the throat of an enemy with blinding clarity.

He hated it.

He did not hate it because of any morals he may or may not have, or the incessant need to protect the next generation because if he were to be honest with anyone he did not truly care for all of that. Maybe he did once, but he did not know when he was already so jaded. When he had seen what the next generation would become and feared the horrors they would create. No, he hated it for the instability using ones so young and inexperienced, still developing, still learning, brought to a war front. He hated it for the hand it had in his first student’s death.

His first responsibility, the one thing he had ever been truly trusted with.

Nawaki had been a smart child, one he thought he had taught enough to survive well on a battlefield, one he thought would be able to make it through everything that was thrown at him. And he knew he had, that the boy had been ready to fight but there was so much you simply could not account for. That someone with no real fighting experience would never be able to adapt to.

Tsunade had trusted him to protect her precious kid brother and he had failed.

There were not many times that Orochimaru fundamentally failed at anything, there were not many times that he found it in himself to regret something. He regretted not doing better for Nawaki, for failing the one person that he knew without a doubt accepted him for how he was rather than how he could be.

He failed his sister, it clung to the back of his throat like a sickness, congealing, making it hard to breathe. He failed his sister, and now he lived in the shadow of that failure. He woke up every day realizing that she left him alone and it was all his fault.

That night he was horrible and wicked, the battlefield was silent save for the crunch of bone as his summons ate their fill. He broke the ground in two under his weight and crushed his enemies with a flick of his wrist. He was made from war, molded by it; it was so much a part of him that at times of peace he barely knew what to do with himself. He thrived in it and in the end, it wasn’t the madness that comes with all manner of conflict clawing up from his belly that broke him, it was the weight of every expectation heaped onto him.

He spent a month on the frontlines, battling beside many different shinobi, their faces blurring together endlessly. Unimportant as they fell, their broken sobs for a release he granted them.   

They won, and they lost, everything returning to the clamor of war and Orochimaru was so very tired of all the noise.

* * *

Orochimaru returned with the first rotation of shinobi, they arrived at the gates with the moon looming above their head. Tension Orochimaru never notice he had left his spine as he slide into the village once more.

His plan was to head home, he didn’t have anyone here he had to let know he was back, it wasn’t like anyone would particularly care if he survived beyond what it would mean to lose a Sanin during wartimes. Or at least that was the plan until he saw a familiar head of silver hair.  Suddenly he was at the bar next to Sakumo, his hand already out to the bartender to get his attention.

“You’re a breath of fresh air aren’t you?” the silver-haired man sighed before taking another sip of his sake. Sakumo was definitely already drunk and only getting drunker, Orochimaru wasn’t entirely sure how drunk exactly, but he was willing to bet it was significant.

“I can leave.” Orochimaru sneered, shifting to do just that, coming here had been a mistake brought on by his own tired mind. A lapse in judgment. He couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t already in his home getting ready for bed.

“No, I’m being serious.” Sakumo’s hand shot out wrapping firmly around his wrist, “You are fantastic. Please stay?”

Orochimaru stared at him for a moment before settling down next to the other man again.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” the Jonin settled back down as well, his eyes drooping.

“I say a great many things, you are going to have to be more specific.”

“About the war and stuff.” He paused as if to gage Orochimaru’s reaction before continuing, “I don’t regret it.”

“You didn’t seem the type of man to regret something that saved another’s life.”

“You really think I didn’t start the war?”

“I think you are an excuse to wage war Hatake, nothing more nothing less. Eventually, this will fade to nothing, but an uncomfortable memory as the public find something else to latch onto.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Orochimaru thought back to his plan, to blue eyes and sprawling seals, and felt the air leave him as if hit.

“I’m not.”

They were silent for a moment, simply sipping their drinks side by side enjoying the other’s presence. Orochimaru’s sake scorched his throat and settled heavily in his stomach.

“You came back from the war?”

“Yes.”

“I’m getting sent out soon.”

“It’s war. They could use another heavy hitter like Konoha’s White Fang throwing their weight around.”

“It’s in wars like this that people like us are born.”

“We are born long before the wars start Hatake, it's just in them that people realize exactly what we are capable of.”

The bartender came back dropping another bottle off for Orochimaru and Sakumo to share.

“Do you think my son will have to fight in it?” Sakumo broke the silence again, leaning back far enough that he almost toppled off the barstool.

“Probably.”

“And it’s not my fault.”

“Are you dumb or simply inept.”

“Excuse me for my insecurities.”

“You’re a shinobi, not a housewife.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

“What?” Orochimaru choked a little on his drink as he sputtered the word.

“Can I be your housewife, Orochimaru?”

“You’re drunk.”

“You didn’t say no.”

They fell into silence again, the only sound between them that of the bar itself. In it Orochimaru could felt the press his own expectation, the heavy crawling feeling under his skin like he wasn’t doing enough, that he himself wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t a feeling he had felt since he was young since he was small and unsure and full of so much hope.

“Will it get better?” Sakumo whispered, Orochimaru barely heard him over the noise of every other patron in the bar.

Orochimaru found that life was a lot like drowning. You struggled every day to keep your head above the water, uselessly treading water until you simply couldn’t anymore, your head slipping beneath the water for just long enough you thought you would die, and then you find the strength to pull yourself back up. That was the problem, Sakumo couldn’t find the strength to pull himself up. They were side by side, drowning in a village of people coasting by on boats and all they could do was grip at the closest thing to them. The closest thing was, unfortunately, their fellow drowning man.

“Yes,” Orochimaru responded, hoping for once he wasn’t lying.

The silence returned again, and they drank for another hour before the Sakumo finally decided he had had enough.

“Will you help me home?”

Orochimaru sighed as he held the other man up, supporting his weight, “Hurry up.”

They walked through the streets of Konoha, the streetlights casting shadows over their faces like ghosts. It didn’t take them long to reach Sakumo’s house, the man himself refused to release Orochimaru.

“Let's eat something before you leave,” He nodded lightly towards the kitchen, “to sober up.”

“Are you cooking.”

“I was kind of hoping you would.”

“I thought you were my housewife.”

“Sorry, my love, I’m a really bad cook.”

Orochimaru startled himself with a laugh as he helped the other man into his house and started to cook some of the meat he found in the other man’s fridge. It didn’t take long for Sakumo to start talking again; his body slumped at the dining room table.  

“Do you love Konoha?”

Orochimaru paused for a moment, studying the pan in front of him as if it had the correct answer to a question like that. He thought about lying, saying ‘yes, of course,’ like it was the truth when he knew it wasn’t, but it was the easy answer. Instead, he took a deep breath.  

“I met a boy once, a blonde haired blue eyed child-“

“That’s not answering my question.”

“Shut up, or I’ll disembowel you.” Orochimaru snapped narrowing his eyes before returning to the meal he was preparing, “The boy was probably the best person I had ever met, he was kind and understanding and so unbelievably bright. He was like the sun, and everyone around him was simply happy to bask in his presence. He was,” Orochimaru paused trying to find something that was believable, searching for the right words, “He was from the flower district and had seen so much of the horrors humans were capable of and yet still every day he would tell me how much he loved Konoha. It baffled me, still does, how someone could love a village that hated them. But he did. I love the Konoha that boy saw, the village we could be.”

“That’s a really fancy way of saying you don’t love your village.”

“How could I? This village abandoned me a long time ago. I used to pacify myself with people like my teammates, but even they have left me now.”

“What happened to the boy.”

“What?”

“You used past tense.”

Orochimaru was silent for a moment, carefully dishing out equal portions of the meal he had made for them. In that moment he mourned for the boy, the man, that had managed to bring him back as much as he could be brought back. He felt the pressure like someone pressing their heel against his throat and closed his eyes against the pain.

“He died.”

They stared at each other for a moment, a tremor ran through Orochimaru’s arm barely controlled through his iron-clad will.

“I am not a good man.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Bad men don’t take care of strangers.”

“Were you ever a stranger?”

* * *

Danzo was like a spider. A clever bug that spun its web carefully with strands you could only see when the light hit them just right. It stretched wide and far and for each fly he ensured the larger it became. He thought Orochimaru was just another fly, a partially powerful fly, and once upon a time that was all he was.

The vial of Hashirama’s DNA gleamed in the artificial light, Orochimaru sat quietly in his chair, simply watching it as he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he made before.

* * *

“We need more soldiers.”

“I refuse.”

“Orochimaru, please the girl needs a teacher, and I believe you would be the best for her.”

“Find someone else to teach her.”

The third Hokage pinched the skin between his eyes, as he sighed out a plume of smoke. The back of Orochimaru’s neck itched with tension.

“This isn’t a request it is an order.”

“If it were Jiraiya or Tsunade refusing you would not force them into it.”

“Do not throw your teammates up in my face like that, you know as well as I do that that is not the truth.”

But it was the truth; it was so true that Orochimaru almost wanted to laugh in his teacher’s face. He did not understand how he could allow Tsunade to run off and Jiraiya to bury himself in spy work that conveniently took him out of the village and yet would not let him refuse to take another student so soon after Nawaki. It may not be the true reason why he was so adamantly refusing, but it was still a valid reason that should be accepted by the third and yet because it was him asking he was denied.

“You are lying to the both of us if you believe that.”

“You are taking the genin Anko Mitarashi as your apprentice.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.” Orochimaru stiffly bowed, his head dipping low. He took it as the dismissal it really was, the girls file burning in his hands.

He picked her up from the academy an hour later having read through her entire file front to back, the nostalgia particularly strong as it collected in the tension between his shoulder blades.

“Anko?” He called out, scanning the crowd of genin, fully aware of where she was. He watched as she shot up, her eyes wide with shock before running up to him. She looked so young, and in that moment he couldn’t help but see the woman she would become. The woman that he beat down over and over again and yet had the strength to rise. He was a poison she should have been saved from, a poison she could have avoided if he had been better or stronger.

He couldn’t change himself, only hope that the tolerance she seemed to have was innate to her.

“Meet me at the Akimichi barbecue in five minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very dialogue heavy chapter. Sorry, this took so long, I have been busy with school and work and haven't had much time to do anything let alone right. I actually got some time because of hurricane Micheal, I live in Florida and the eye passed over the area I live in. I got some writing done because of that and actually planned the basics of the rest of the story. No promises on when the next chapter will be, I will do my best to make it not a long wait.


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